


An Act in Two Parts

by HarmMarie



Series: Phoenix Files [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU after Angel Season 5 episode Destiny, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gangs on PCP is code for vampires, Gen, Milk Run, Snark, Spike has a PI firm with Wesley, Spike helps the helpless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmMarie/pseuds/HarmMarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins with a hero...and ends with a team that will leave the supernatural world in pieces. Or laughing hysterically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act One: The Hero

It happened on his way home. That had surprised him. This had to be the worst place Spike had been to on his road trip. As a new "Rogue Demon hunter" (the Watcher's words, not his) or rather a "Roving Demon Hunter" he was down right bored with this city. Two days and he had only staked one vamp. He also couldn't find the local demon hangout. That was almost unheard of; every city had at least one demon bar.

He had chatted up the vampire, prior to staking of course, and found that most demons avoided this city all together. To much military presence. He had noticed them, of course. The only thing that kept him from just driving right through Colorado Springs was the pressing need for fuel. For both him and his RV.

It was a beautiful machine, as far as RV's went. Much nicer than the last one he drove, which was probably still beached in the desert with a sword or two stuck in it. This one was a brand new A class with all the comforts of home: a trailer with a motorcycle on it (also new), a mini-fridge, a queen sized bed in the back...and a catch of weapons under the sofa.

He would have never been able to afford this on his own. It, along with his new legitimate, _corporeal_ identity, and new paycheck were now in the employ of one Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. William James Edwards was a licensed private investigator with Angel Investigations.

He was still working on convincing the Watcher to change the name to something better. Something like Spike Investigations had a nice ring to it, though Wes didn't think so, but Spike was working on it. Maybe something to do with his new ability. It seemed that going up in a pillar of sunlight had had an unexpected side effect: Spike was immune to the sun's rays.

It was the biggest stock since becoming solid again. He had taken a large bottle of alcohol from Peaches and managed to locate an empty office in which to drink that unfortunate encounter with Harmony out of his brain. He was watching the sunset through the windows when Angel found him. Seems he was none to happy with him for emptying the liquor cabinet, among other things. So Angel came storming in, intent on hitting him or something, when he suddenly flinched back into the shadows, smoking. They stared at each other dumbly before Angel called Fred. Turns out the office was empty because it didn't have necro-tempered glass yet. Oh, he was still undead, just immune to the sun. Spike hadn't had this much fun since he'd had the Gem of Amara. The best part had been rubbing it in Angel's face.

A few months later, and the novelty still hadn't worn off. He spent the day walking around town in the sun before heading out to this great bar he had found. It was called O'Malley's and served that onion flower thing that he loved so much. He spent much of the evening eating, drinking, and playing pool.

It was while he was walking home that he heard the struggle. He picked up speed when he smelled the vamps. Turning the corner, he ran, duster trailing, toward the alley. From the entrance he paused for a second to judge the situation.

A teenage boy was about to be fed on by two vamps. He was putting up a struggle though. He punched one of the vamps in the face causing him to grab his nose, before the other vamp grabbed the teen from behind, preparing to bite.

Spike charged in and pulled the vamp from the stunned kid before staking it. He turned quickly to the other vamp and after a short scuffle, staked it.

"Amateurs." Spike scoffed. It was disappointing how easy that was.

"What...was...that." The teen's voice carried in the small alley, even though he stood with his hands braced on his knees, panting.

"Uh...gang members...on PCP. Yeah. I chased them off." Spike stuttered through an explanation. In Sunnyhell, the victim would have already run off by now.

"That." The boy stood, his voice becoming stronger, "was no gang member."

Spike sighed. "Just go home, kid. You don't want to know what that was."

The kid seemed to flinch before drawing himself to his full height. He was taller than Spike, almost 6 foot and Spike had to look up to meet his eyes. They were old eyes. The kind of eyes that reminded him of the Slayer. This kid was not at all what he appeared to be.

The brown eyes hardened, gaze challenging.

"Tell me."


	2. Act Two: The Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be a milk run. An actual milk run.

It happened on his way home. That had surprised him. It was supposed to be a milk run. An _actual_ milk run. Jack had been pulling a can of pop out of the fridge when he remembered that he was out of milk. He didn't want to brave school tomorrow without his usual fruit loops.

School. He was man enough to admit (if only in his own head) that he was miserable. He thought it would be a new adventure, a new mission, to learn and adapt to high school, except…it didn't end. It was now six months later and he was still here. There was not going to be a rescue at the last minute, no conveniently timed beam-out, no radio call from Teal'c to draw him back to his old life. No one needed him or missed him because they had Him. _The original._ He wasn't even real.

Hell, he didn't even have his own name. His 15 year old identity was for one Carter Jackson, emancipated minor. Of course, he still went by Jack, though hardly anyone called him that. Oh, he had friends…well, acquaintances really, and they weren't so bad, just teens. They were so wrapped up in their small lives and petty problems that Jack's 50-year-old brain was ready to zat the lot of them. They had no idea that every day they sat in class, complaining about that quiz in geometry, there was a group of people out There (among the stars) so the world didn't end.

It was one of the only things keeping Jack sane: the thought that he might someday be able to go back through the gate and make a difference again… to do something worthwhile again.

Jack realized that he'd stopped and been staring at the stars above his head. He sighed before resuming his trip.

It was a beautiful night and the walk, while a little over a mile, was pleasant. The convenience store was quiet at this time of night, so he was in and out with his jug of milk in no time. He made it about 2 blocks before it happened.

He hadn't thought that his instincts were that rusty, but he didn't sense them coming. Before he knew it, the two men had dragged him off the street and into the adjoining alley. Milk forgotten, Jack immediately started in on freeing himself. A couple quick moves and they released their hold on him. Getting mugged was so not on his list of things to today. It took half a second to notice their distorted features. Another half second to realize there was no way out.

"Would you look at that, Joe. Looks like we got ourselves a live one." The one blocking the alley entrance slurred. The 'man' was having a hard time talking through his teeth. 'Joe' nodded, his feral grin more offsetting than his distorted features.

Before Jack could formulate a sarcastic remark, 'Joe' rushed him. Jack quickly side-stepped the rush, hitting the 'man' as he passed, causing him to go head first into the wall. The other one, taking advantage of Jack's distraction, grabbed his throat and squeezed. Jack struggled in the strong grip, the ugly face looming closer. He did the only thing he could think of, and spit in his face.

Jack's vision flashed, as the pressure increased. Guess he was still great at riling up the enemy. He struggled to take in enough air. The face was close enough now. Raising his right hand, Jack punched him in the face with all his strength.

The grip on his throat was released. He barely had time to inhale before the forgotten 'Joe' grabbed him from behind, wrenching his head to the side. And then he was gone. Without his support, Jack collapsed onto his knees, just breathing. He watched as a man with white hair and a trench coat fought off the second attacker with ease. Jack wasn't jealous. Nope, not at all. Then the trench coat man did something that caused him to vanish. Poof and the 'man' was gone.

Jack struggled to his feet. He made it upright before his vision greyed out. He leaned to brace his hands on his knees and focused on breathing through it. The trench coat man's back was still to him, his shoulders slumped.

"What…was…that." Jack rasped. The guy whirled around and looked almost surprised to see him there.

"Uh...gang members...on PCP. Yeah. I chased them off."

Right; and the Gould are all just misunderstood. This guy needed to work on his cover story. Jack stood and cleared his throat.

"That was no gang member."

The man heaved a sigh, looking resigned. "Just go home, kid. You don't want to know what that was."

Jack couldn't stop the flinch at being called a kid. He just couldn't leave. Something more was going on here. More than a couple of muggers who weren't muggers. He straightened to his full height, hiding any sign of discomfort, and met the guy's eyes in a hard stare. Soldier's eyes, Jack noted, as the man met his gaze head on, weighing him in return.

"Tell me."


End file.
